


Embezzlement

by leere



Series: Shit I Write On Tumblr [14]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7589287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leere/pseuds/leere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: Pete is Patrick's boss and catches him embezzling and has to punish/blackmails him ;-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embezzlement

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 7/24/16.

Pete gives one last particularly rough thrust, shoving himself deep into Patrick, shuddering hard as he comes. He tries to pull out once he’s finished, but Patrick’s legs wrap tighter around his waist, heels digging into his lower back almost painfully. He’s jerking himself off quick, arching up and moaning, and Pete would be watching him and marveling at how incredible he is if he was so fucking pissed at the lying, conniving little fuck. 

Pete glances back at where his phone’s set on the bookshelf behind them, dutifully recording them, to ensure it’s still doing it’s job. It’s captured five minutes of Patrick sucking Pete off like his life depended on it and then another twenty of Pete fucking him on top of his desk - Pete’s pretty satisfied. Although the footage’s main purpose is to be used as blackmail, he’ll definitely be jacking off to it for the next six months.

Pete glances down again just as Patrick finishes himself off, whining nonsense as he comes over his hand. He quits arching and his back hits the surface of the desk with an audible thump. Patrick’s legs fall from Pete’s waist and Pete’s soft dick slips out of his ass. Pete frowns to himself and reaches for a couple of tissues, wiping his own dick off and then Patrick’s stomach.

Patrick’s still just laying there, breathing hard, eyes closed; then those baby blues open and he’s smiling smugly up at Pete, looking like a cat who just got the cream - little fucker thinks he’s got it all, Pete’s money and his heart and his cock. How wrong he is. 

Patrick takes the tissues he’s offered and wipes between his legs, where Pete’s come is dripping onto the desk; Pete feels a little ill, so he doesn’t watch. He goes over and gets his phone, not stopping the recording quite yet; he discreetly turns it so it’s still filming Patrick and pretends to be texting.

“Who’re you talking to?” Patrick asks conversationally. 

“Brendon,” Pete says - it’s the name of his secretary. “Got a meeting in twenty, be out by then, okay?”

Patrick doesn’t answer. Pete watches him through the phone; he’s still laying there, body on display, head turned to the side, staring out the window behind Pete’s desk. At one point he rubs his eyes with his fists like a child. Then he props himself up on his elbows and looks at Pete and grins. “Nobody fucks me like you do,” he says from across the room. Pete looks up at him. Patrick’s smiling, twinkling blue eyes crinkling warmly; Pete still can’t believe the adorable little cocksucker he damn near fell in love with could possibly be capable of such a felony. He still can’t process it, and it’s been days since Trohman informed him. “You know that? You do it best.”

“You only love me for my dick and my money, don’t you?”

Patrick sits up, raising an eyebrow at Pete. He’s trying to look indifferent, but the concern is evident in his eyes. He knows Pete’s onto him. “Why do you say that?”

Pete’s smart, but so is Patrick - they can play for hours. But Pete’s sick and tired of games.

He chooses not to answer, just silently takes a seat at his desk, still naked from the waist down, dress shirt crinkled and unbuttoned. He keeps his phone at his side, and he’s not sure how much it can see, but he knows it can definitely hear, and that’s enough.

Patrick turns to look at him from where he’s still sat on top of the desk, unabashedly eyeing Pete’s body. His unapologetic love of everything involving sex with Pete isn’t a turn on anymore; Pete just feels used and betrayed as Patrick looks at him like he’s a piece of meat. He supposes maybe that is all he is to Patrick; a steak, maybe a crab-stuffed steak, only instead of crab, he’s stuffed with money. That makes him feel bad, though, so he pushes the thought aside.

Patrick licks his lips and carefully slips off the desk, straddling Pete in his chair. Pete lets the phone drop to the ground, but he’s pretty sure it’s still filming them, even if it’s just recording the bottom of his chair and their legs. 

“Round two already?” Pete mumbles when Patrick starts kissing his neck. Not biting or sucking - can’t leave marks, nobody can know.

Patrick smiles against his skin. “I don’t get you all to myself for a full hour very often. Gonna take advantage of it.”

The blonde rolls his hips down against Pete’s, nipping at his jaw, and Pete grips Patrick’s hips and stares at the wall, feeling vacant.

This time, when it’s over, Pete pushes Patrick off his lap. He’d been dozing off in Pete’s lap, so he blinks in surprise at Pete, standing on shaky legs. Pete made him come three times in an hour; at least Patrick will have fond memories of the sex after Pete casually destroys his life.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick asks, and Pete can’t take the big eyes. He dresses himself quickly, going around the room to pick up his scattered clothing. He comes back to the desk for his phone, finally ending the 50 minute video. Pete pockets it, then looks up at Patrick, who’s still naked. He’s recognized the mood’s changed, however, and he’s using his hands to cover himself. His clothes are in a pile by the door, but he hasn’t made an attempt to get to them. “Pete, what’s going on?”

“You’re fired,” Pete says, taking a seat at his desk. He kicks his feet up and stares Patrick down coldly. He’s Mr. CEO, and he’s going to fucking act like it. He’s tired of being played like a fool. “Pack your shit and go.”

Patrick’s gaping at him. “Pete, what the fuck? I have a family, you fucking know that-”

“Yeah, well, you stole hundreds of thousands of dollars from my company.” Patrick visibly pales, and Pete keeps his face blank. “I could take you to court, and put your ass in jail, and tell your fucking wife about the shit you pulled. Then you wouldn’t have a family. You fucked up, and now it’s on you.” Patrick opens his mouth to say something, and he’s quickly going from sheet white to angry and indignant red, but Pete keeps talking. “Did you think seducing your boss would make you his right hand man? His most trusted confidant? Well, you were right. But I’m not an idiot, and you’re not getting any more of my money. If you don’t pay me back every cent you stole by next June, I’m getting my lawyer, and you’ll be imprisoned, and your wife won’t bail you out, and you know what the fuck will happen to a guy like you in jail. Now get the fuck out of my office.”

For a minute Pete actually thinks Patrick’s going to cry. But then he walks stiffly to the door - Pete fucked him pretty hard; there’s bruises blooming on his hips, and he won’t be able to walk for a couple of days - and wordlessly dresses himself. Then he turns around and stares at Pete. Pete’s expecting an insult, or several, maybe a middle finger, something. He doesn’t really care, he’s got the upper hand regardless, and additional blackmail to ruin Patrick’s reputation further if he tries to get out of paying Pete back. Words can’t hurt him. Still, he’s always been a sucker for meaningful last words.

But instead of something deep, or scathing, or an explanation, he just gets a weak, “I’m sorry, Pete,” and then he’s gone. 

Pete’s left feeling horribly empty.


End file.
